


Eyes On Me

by azureheavens



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Crimson Flower Route, Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Gift Fic, Post-Canon, Romance, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureheavens/pseuds/azureheavens
Summary: You could not tell they were once considered common blood with their satin doublets and glittering gowns. They mixed in effortlessly with those born into luxury. The grudge of envy had long left their eyes, leaving a simple delight with this once unattainable world, now open to all who worked and wanted it.But take one look at Dorothea, and you would know her face.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Eyes On Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hoenko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoenko/gifts).



> Written for fic giveaway on my Twitter! This was such a cute prompt, and I love the idea of Dorothea and Byleth together 🌹
> 
> ALSO just found out it's Bylethea week lmao

Rows of ornately carved candles glowed while perched in pure gold sconces. The large chandelier filled the vaulted ceiling, infinite crystal ornaments scattering light throughout the ballroom. The music swells gently but with purpose. Dancers rise from their seats, out to the lacquered wooden floor, living out the dreams once locked away in their hearts.

You could not tell they were once considered common blood with their satin doublets and glittering gowns. They mixed in effortlessly with those born into luxury. The grudge of envy had long left their eyes, leaving a simple delight with this once unattainable world, now open to all who worked and wanted it.

But take one look at Dorothea, and you would know her face.

As she led Byleth to a less attended corner of the dance hall, she heard the familiar whispers. Aimed at her, or aimed at her wife, it was hard to tell. Regardless, Dorothea cradled the small of Byleth’s back with one hand and slipped the other into the more calloused palm. They had a deal that whoever asked first would lead, and it was Dorothea’s pleasure to finally beat her to the punch.

Dorothea’s crimson gown was modest. She was only there to dance after all. Byleth had dressed simply as well: a deep blue gown that matched her hair and proudly displayed muscled, scarred arms. The arms that fought for the life that the people of Fodlan now enjoyed, the arms that Dorothea could let wrap around her at night and forget the price that came with it.

Cellos and violins sung sweetly as they danced. Byleth gazed gently at her, drinking her in, a rare smile curling at her lips.

“Is that... Mrs. Arnault?”

“Yes, I think it is... And we’re dancing right next to her!”

Dorothea smiled, but it was out of habit at being seen. Not the joy of it. She bit back a sigh.

Byleth tilted her head. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, of course.” It really was no trouble. She was probably too used to enjoying her privacy at home. Stealing the attention of the room was so second nature that it was hard to control. She kept her gaze on Byleth, their heels clicking in time to the orchestra.

“...To think, a war hero and an opera singer....”

“Now now, our nephew served under Mrs. Arnault in the war...! They’re both heroes in my book...”

Byleth’s gaze flicked to the side. The dance floor became crowded. “More are gathering.”

“And not just because of me, it seems...” Dorothea said softly. Her dance faltered a step. “I’m so sorry, love.”

Despite the eyes darting in their direction, Byleth held her gaze instead. Eyes that once stare into her very being now anchored her. She pulled her hand from Dorothea’s to slip it behind her back instead. Swiftly, simply, she led them off the floor. An open door to a balcony supplied an escape. “I just realized I need some fresh air. Don’t you?”

Dorothea’s laugh bubbled up like champagne. “Oh, Lethie...” She pressed her head against her wife’s. Perhaps she hated the eyes just as much. “I thought you’d never ask.”


End file.
